


How It Could Have Happened

by My_Alter_Ego



Series: “The Beginning, The Middle, and The Ending” [2]
Category: White Collar
Genre: A Pact Based on a Lie, Gen, Lost Love, Tough Federal Agents, prison escapes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:47:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25608385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Alter_Ego/pseuds/My_Alter_Ego
Summary: The first of two “middle” stories in my series is my fictional version of how Peter and Neal hammered out their original partners deal after Neal’s escape from prison. A little bit different from canon.
Relationships: Elizabeth Burke/Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey/Kate Moreau, Peter Burke & Neal Caffrey
Series: “The Beginning, The Middle, and The Ending” [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1844380
Kudos: 23





	How It Could Have Happened

Peter got the call from Agent Ruiz just a little after lunch. The arrogant head of the “Gangs and Violent Crimes Division” of the FBI was just as tauntingly irritating as usual. Peter always tried to keep his distance from the smug little jerk, but Ruiz was the one initiating contact today, so Peter was a captive audience.

“Just givin’ ya a heads up, Burke,” Ruiz crowed. “We managed to snag your missing criminal—ya know, the one who keeps slipping through your fingers. We caught Neal Caffrey red handed lurking in the Whitney Museum trying to pry some stupid painting off the wall. I think your boy’s taste is in his ass ‘cause that abstract bit of crazy by some broad named Pendleton sure didn’t ring my bell.”

“Thanks for the color commentary,” Peter replied sarcastically. “Where do you have Caffrey stashed at the moment?”

“Well, ya see, it wasn’t an easy take down,” Ruiz replied ominously. “He had a crowbar in his hand and was also carrying a gun, so when he got violent, my guys had to react in a way to protect themselves. He wound up a bit worse for wear, so we had to drag his butt to Mount Sinai for a patch job. But if you want to see our prize package, he’ll eventually be taking up space in Riker’s before the day is out.”

Peter hung up the phone and found himself more than a bit worried. He knew Neal Caffrey, and why wouldn’t he after chasing the young guy around the globe for almost three years? He had finally cornered the master forger and con artist with a bit of bait in a storage locker and put him away. Caffrey had kept his head down and almost completed his four-year sentence before he decided to walk out the front door of a maximum security prison. He had continued to remain at large, at least until a heavy-handed Ruiz had stumbled across him today. And it was because Peter and Caffrey shared a history that all of Ruiz’s posturing and gloating, as well as his facts, seemed completely off base.

Peter knew that Neal abhorred weapons of any kind and he was never violent. Peter had been an arm’s distance away from his quarry many times during their chase, and all Neal ever brandished was a dazzling, provocative smile as he slipped out of Peter’s clutches. Even when finally apprehended, it was a docile and almost anticlimactic event without any resistance. In fact, it ended with a fond gentleman’s handshake. And Peter just happened to know that Neal preferred the Italian Renaissance masters over a fairly new visionary symbolist like contemporary artist, Agnes Pendleton. Even if somebody paid him to do the job, it would have been performed more elegantly with panache, not a crude bit of prying a frame from a wall. Nothing seemed to make any sense in Ruiz’s scenario. Peter had to see Caffrey in the flesh to satisfy his misgivings.

With that foremost in his mind, Peter left the office before his usual quitting time and made the long trek over to Riker’s Island. He flashed his badge and was told that the newest addition to this fortress was being questioned in an interrogation room. After surrendering his weapon with the gatekeeper, he followed directions to where Caffrey was being detained. Without knocking, Peter strode purposefully into the room to join Ruiz and his captive. Peter stepped in front of the prisoner, who was shackled hand and foot, and gazed in stupefaction. The man in a jail-issued jumpsuit looked frightened and actually flinched when Peter came close. This was someone who had obviously been maliciously and brutally beaten. One of his eyes was swollen completely shut and his nose was clearly broken. There was a zigzagging line of new sutures on his right cheek and his jaw was grotesquely swollen. The cringing victim actually jumped in alarm when Peter roared, “Ruiz, you’re an idiot! You should be on your way to Emerald City with Dorothy to get a brain from the Wizard of Oz. This is not Neal Caffrey!”

“What are you talking about, Burke?” Ruiz demanded in a similarly loud tone.

“Don’t you pay attention to wanted posters and read the descriptions?” Peter retorted. “Caffrey doesn’t look anything like this poor slob sitting here. This man has black hair, brown eyes, and a pointy chin. Caffrey has brown hair, a square jaw, and blue eyes. And he most certainly doesn’t have any distinguishing marks or telltale tattoos,” Peter added for emphasis as he indicated the serpent coiled on the unfortunate prisoner’s forearm.

“Well, it’s been awhile since you’ve seen your squirrely little escapee,” Ruiz said a bit belligerently. “Maybe a few things have changed after four years.”

At that ridiculous statement, Peter dug out his phone and pulled up picture after picture of Neal Caffrey’s face for Ruiz to see. “Maybe you need your eyesight checked, Buddy, because this is Neal Caffrey, not this other fellow that you and your henchmen practically beat to a bloody pulp.”

“What’s with you, Burke?” Peter’s antagonist said in a surly tone of voice. “You got some kinda sick relationship with the guy you’re supposed to be chasing? I mean, it looks a little kinky for an FBI agent to have pictures of a most wanted criminal on his phone. Unless of course, you want Caffrey in a different kinda way.”

“I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer,” Peter snarled. “Do yourself a favor before you make an even bigger fool of yourself. Caffrey was in Sing Sing so his DNA and fingerprints are on file with the Department of Corrections. Compare them to this guy’s and put the brakes on before you take any more stupid bows and strain your back.”

After losing his temper, Peter reined in his disgust and strode from the room. He was practically seething as he retrieved his sidearm and made his way to his car. Ruiz was a puffed up buffoon, but he was also a dangerous and reckless one. He tended to ignore rules and protocols if it got him what he wanted, but even hardened criminals had rights and should be treated fairly and humanely. If Ruiz ever did happen to corner Neal Caffrey, Peter was afraid it wouldn’t end well for the gentle young criminal.

Peter wondered why he was so concerned about Caffrey’s welfare. He reasoned it was probably because this kid was so very different from the usual despicable and nasty villains that fell within White Collar’s bailiwick. He was obviously intelligent, almost a genius when it came to art forgeries, and Peter liked smart people. Years before, the talented artist had gained Peter’s personal, yet unspoken respect. However, even though Neal had probably accomplished more in his short twenty-some years than most criminals had in a lifetime, he was still immature when it came to matters of the heart. Peter suspected that most of his past crimes were done to impress his girlfriend, and initially that was how Peter had managed to lure him into a trap. From what Peter could surmise, a lovesick fool had left prison early when Kate Moreau had apparently dumped him, and now he was probably still hanging around New York hoping to find and win her back. That would not end well for him if Ruiz got to him first. Peter needed a plan to prevent that from happening.

The next morning, after Peter had an off-the-wall idea clear in his mind, he presented it to Reese Hughes. Of course, the old man seemed reluctant to get on board, but grudgingly promised to run it up the ladder. “You could be putting your life in jeopardy, Peter,” he warned. “Caffrey is an unknown factor in this equation and it could go horribly wrong.”

“I’m willing to take that chance, Reese. I think I know him better than anybody,” Peter said calmly, maybe to reassure himself as well as his supervisor. “Just tell me if the boys upstairs give it the green light.”

After being given a thumbs up a week later, Peter put his own tricky scheme into motion. Like most members of law enforcement, FBI agents had their own stables of informants on the street. These shadows were helpful with the right amount of monetary incentive. If compensated, they would keep their eyes and ears open as they traveled down some seedy streets in this mega metropolis and report questionable things to their handlers. On the flip side, occasionally they could be encouraged to disseminate bits of false information, as well. Peter made sure they got the word out that Neal Caffrey’s girlfriend had been arrested for selling fake collector-quality stamps. In the FBI’s eyes, she was small fry, but, nonetheless, Peter Burke was pushing for her to be given jailtime. Of course, if her alleged boyfriend was willing to step up to the plate to save her, the FBI would gladly exchange him for his paramour and she’d be released without any charges.

The grapevine on the street was probably just as efficient as a hot line between the White House’s Oval Office and the Secret Service. Just three nights later, Peter came home from his job and strolled into his townhouse to witness something that made his gut twist. Neal Caffrey and El were sharing a cup of coffee across the kitchen island, and it all looked cozy and natural like wanted criminals stopped in for a chat all the time.

“Caffrey,” Peter snarled.

“Peter,” Neal answered amiably.

“My house,” Peter sputtered, “my private home—you had the audacity to come to my home again!”

“I think that’s obvious,” Neal shrugged, “and I have to say that you have a very gracious wife, Peter.”

“You are so far out of bounds, Buster, you’re not even in the ballpark,” Peter glared as El suppressed a smile and a giggle.

“Look, Peter, calm down,” Neal implored. “I heard there may be a deal floating around—me for Kate. I didn’t feel comfortable just waltzing right into the FBI building and taking my chances that I heard wrong. I trust you to level with me.”

“I ought to shoot you just because you’re an annoying, cheeky irritant,” Peter groused. “I could always claim it was self-defense because you were trying to kill me by giving me a stroke.”

“Neal’s right, Hon,” El said softly, ignoring her husband’s histrionics. Calmly handing him a beer she added, “This was the safest place for him to turn himself in, don’t you think?”

“Is that what you’re intending to do, Caffrey, turn yourself in to my custody?” Peter wanted to be clear.

“If the deal is you let Kate walk away, then yes,” Neal answered as he stared unwaveringly into Peter’s eyes.

“That means you go back and do another four years in a Federal penitentiary, Buddy. You know that, right?” Peter pushed.

“Yeah, I get that,” Neal answered quietly.

“That is just so romantically sweet and brave,” Elizabeth offered her feminine opinion, earning her a warm smile from Neal.

“Not helping, El,” Peter protested. “This young punk is not some knight in shining armor; he’s a very bad criminal.”

“I’m just saying, I understand what’s in his heart,” El managed to get in the last word before she sashayed from the kitchen with an exaggerated sigh.

Peter shook his head as he gazed after his spouse. Then he plunked down onto the stool she had vacated and took a long pull on his beer. “My wife is usually a good judge of character,” he began slowly, “but Neal, sometimes you do really boneheaded things for a guy who is usually pretty smart. Walking out of prison with just three months left on your sentence is at the top of the list.”

“I thought Kate was in danger,” Neal offered up his excuse.

Peter ignored the words as he continued his train of thought. “But I may have an alternative avenue that you could travel that doesn’t come with orange jumpsuits and cell blocks.”

Neal cocked his head and studied Peter carefully. “I’m listening.”

“I could get you paroled into my custody for the next four years. You’d have to wear a tracking anklet and stay in a restricted radius while you worked for me as my confidential informant. That means I get to pick your brain and utilize your expertise in the gray areas to help me catch other criminals.”

“Wow, you don’t have any trouble reaching for the brass ring, do you, Peter,” Neal said incredulously.

“Neal, let me level with you. There are lawmen out there, as well as scary bounty hunters, who shoot first and ask questions later. You’d be just another notch on their gun belts. And, as you are probably well aware, there are predators just as dangerous in prison. You may have been lucky the first time around, but four more years is a long time to watch your back when you’re like a fish stuck in a barrel. I can protect you on the outside, but not on the inside. What I’m offering is really a win/win for everybody concerned. Surely you can see that.”

“And if I take this deal, you’ll leave Kate alone?” Neal wanted to hear Peter say it again.

“I’ll leave Kate Moreau alone,” Peter promised, feeling quite guilty for misleading this smitten young man willing to sacrifice his freedom yet again for the woman he loved so devotedly. Was it right that a new partnership would be based on a lie?

“I want to see Kate first,” Neal said quietly.

“You’ll only see your girlfriend if she wants to see you, Buddy,” Peter tap danced around the fact that he had no idea where the enticing little siren was at the moment. “Now that you’ve heard what I have to offer, are you going to take the deal, or be foolish enough to walk out of here and become a target again? You can’t help your girlfriend if you’re dead.”

“If I surrender to you, I need to be sure that I’ll only be working with you and nobody else for the duration of my parole,” Neal said adamantly.

Of course Neal was leery, but Peter thought he was winning him over. “You have my word, Caffrey.”

“And you’ll always level with me—no lies or half-truths, right?” Neal pushed.

“From the minute you put on that ankle monitor, we both take an oath of trust and honesty,” Peter sidestepped the issue of his recent duplicity. “So, do we have a deal?”

“Yeah, we have a deal,” Neal finally agreed. And so it began, a long bumpy road filled with deflections, suspicions, divided loyalties, deceits, and a lot of hurt—not exactly as originally agreed upon in that infamous pact!


End file.
